Skyrim: Swordpoint
by Independent Reclaimer
Summary: In the year after Alduin's defeat, Skyrim becomes a land of interest for all of Tamriel including mercenaries, sorcerers and warriors. Among those that migrating include Adela and Aksel Ulrichson, who will be part of a destiny that shall preserve the mortal plane of Mundus from the evil hands of the Daedra...


_Morndas, first day of Morning Star, 4E 202_

* * *

Black-Briar mead had a bitter but sweet taste that sprinkled itself on Aksel's tongue. The beverage's rareness and origin only made it better than the very ale Aksel had favoured in his adolescence. This Ulrichson had completely fallen for it as soon as it touched his lips and completely induced its attractive effect.

The Bee and Barb was unusually full of Nords despite its Argonian managing. The activity here has been much friendlier ever since the Dragonborn of legend decapitated Ulfric Stormcloak in his throne room. The controversy however was still strong in Riften's society; bar fights on the topic erupted on occasion and even raids by the Stormcloak remnants had become apparent to drive out the Imperial control late last year.

Curiosity on the status of Riften's court became a subject since the Imperial victory in the Rift. The history regarding the politics of this debauched city is complicated due to their debts towards the local Thieves Guild and has continuously sparked suspicions all over the province. Aksel took the liberty of asking a fellow Nord to his right. A woman clad in rusted iron armour with beaded blonde hair. Half of her face was partially stained with war paint and a giant battle-axe attached to her back unused. Something about her gave Aksel the impression that all this woman was about is _adventure_.

He nudged her softly. "Hi there" he offered his hand out to her. "My name's Aksel."

"Mjoll. It's a pleasure to meet you, Aksel." She said with her thick Nord accent and shook his hand kindly. Mjoll gave him a friendly smile that seemed to test Aksel's capabilities, even though the two sat in an inn that was completely packed with no room to spare.

The conversation started quite awkwardly, speaking to a Nord woman battle ready was as intimidating as being held sword point.

"What are you drinking there?" he asked. Mjoll's cup was full of a familiar liquid. She quickly took a sip, closed her eyes and silently embraced it before replying. "Ah, nothing special. Just the casual mead native to Skyrim. I thought it would strike a bell in you, considering that you're a Nord."

"Oh no. I've had that mead before. Just that it looks like something else in that cup." Like all Nords, Aksel tried to keep the tone neutral between two warriors to prevent a grudge from catching on so early in meeting each other, unlike previous encounters. Neither did he want to kill time on simple trivial matters, Aksel went straight to it. "Do you know what's going on with the Jarl's court?" he said.

"I don't know. Maven Black-Briar has been a real thorn in my side. Apparently she was dealing with the Thieves Guild and Legate Rikke of the Imperial military was getting suspicious. Other than that, I'm clueless."

"No worries. Thanks anyway." She nodded back as he turned to the man on his left to the former housecarl of Maven Black-Briar: Maul. His face was rugged, dirty and obviously experienced. Even a Nordic swordsman wouldn't trust a man who even looks like he's been to Oblivion and back. Strangely, Maul finished off the last precious drops of Black-Briar mead. Anger raged within as Aksel noted his beverage had disappeared from in front of him. "Excuse me. That's _my _mead."

Maul gave him a dismissive look and glanced at the bottle's empty contents. He gritted his teeth and tensed his eyebrows crisply. "_What's your name, kid?_" he said with a resent. Aksel didn't know which response to give; whether he should reply negatively or to keep his light-hearted mood. Attacking a man of his stature would place Aksel's future in jeopardy if he still remains a housecarl. He put on a feigned smile and quickly licked his lips to remember the glorious taste.

"My name?" He glared at Maul. In a heartbeat, Aksel's fist met with Maul's face. The force sent the mercenary flying off his stool and slamming his head against the leg of a table. Everybody in the Bee and Barb raised themselves off their seats to watch the action. Aksel stood above Maul indifferently in an aggressive stance. _Nobody steals his mead._

"Aksel Ulrichson the Third, you abhorrent _twat_!" He grabbed Maul's collar threw him through the table's plank. The mercenary stood up immediately to face Aksel. He took out a small dagger from his shoulder and gripped it firmly in his hand before attempting to stab at Aksel's neck. Instead, Aksel smashed his wrist into Maul's arm and sent his right hand into his face again. The dagger flew out of Maul's hand and slid safely to the middle of the room. The two Nords clashed as barrages of attacks hit each man in multiple areas. Maul clutched his arms around Aksel's neck and head-butted him, forcing the possible victor to stumble to the floor. Regaining his focus, the warrior roared in defiance and charged Maul through another batch of tables. He wrestled him to the floor and gave straight punches to his nose until two other inn-goers grabbed him off. Maul was bleeding heavily from his nose and signalled the men.

"Hold him for me!" he barked as he threw hooks into Aksel's stomach. Quickly, he lifted his leg to the top of a table and pushed the rest of his lower body into Maul. The mercenary crashed into the crowd as Aksel twisted his right hand to the back of his holder's head and slammed it onto his knee then put the other man in a headlock and rushed his head into a pillar.

"_Stop!_" said a female voice from the inn's entrance. It was Adela, Aksel's older sister. Another warrior dedicated to Skyrim, Adela was easily one of the most agile of the Nordic society. She was awfully handy with a sword but she had her flaws. She was a head smaller than her brother but she was fit to become a personal housecarl to a king. She aimed her head towards Aksel with a stern look. "_Get over here. Now._"

The entire inn glared at Aksel as we walked boldly out of the doors, not bothering to concentrate on the broken furniture or Aksel's attackers. Without a word, the Ulrichsons left into the night. Made her way back to her spot on the counter and raised her cup full of Nord Mead. "What a glorious year, this'll be!"

**[AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is actually my first take on the fantastical world of the Elder Scrolls after staying dedicated to sci-fi. I honestly don't know if I'll continue since I doubt my writing ability. Hopefully, I'll take the advice of criticism and use it to improve for the first chapter of this story. Thanks for reading anyway, guys.]**


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